


Canoodling In the Woods

by amyfortuna



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Breasts, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, Kissing, Outdoor Sex, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:57:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3370370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feanor and Nerdanel can't keep their eyes, hands, or mouths off each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canoodling In the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was: anything about Feanor going down on Nerdanel.

They were young and in love, newly betrothed, and Nerdanel’s father was absorbed in his craft nearly always, hardly taking moments out to eat and refresh himself, at times. If sometimes he turned to ask his daughter a question, or to tell his apprentice to carry out a task, but they were not there, he would barely notice. 

Feanaro and Nerdanel found it easy to slip away from the forge then, when the hunger for kisses and touch became too much to bear, when they had stared at each other desperately across their separate works for too long and could no longer concentrate on anything but the need for each other. Not far away was a small wood, and together they walked, hand in hand, beneath the trees, and finally, deep inside where all was silent and golden, they would lie down and exchange kisses. 

It would start with kisses. Nerdanel, ever one to take what she wanted, would kiss Feanaro urgently, her mouth hot on his, their tongues sliding together, dancing in and out of each other’s mouths. He would lie back delighted, content to be almost passive in this as nothing else, letting her take charge. 

She would bring his hands to her clothed breasts, and he would rub at the nipples through the cloth, making them stand out hard, visible through her smallclothes and thin tunic. Sometimes he would push aside her clothing and suckle at her breast, sucking hard, and she would arch into the touch, shaking, desperate. 

(Years later when she fed her own children, she would remember that first time with a keen delight, and somehow it was never possible to tell Feanaro that they had enough children, in the face of that memory.)

But his mouth upon her breasts only ever left her hungry for more, and eventually she would guide his hands down, underneath her skirts. His hands were sure at the forge, but here they often fumbled and did not know what to do. She far preferred his mouth, that insolent, witty, ruby-red mouth, that arrogant curve of lip and charming flash of teeth. 

“Lick me,” she would say, and it was a command rather than a request. Feanaro, at this, only ever smiled - flashing those teeth again! - but always, always obeyed. 

And here he would push her gently down into the grass, she pulling her skirts up, revealing herself to him. So wet and hot was she always that the first touch of his lips felt cool against her. Legs spread, she would arch up into his mouth, squirming to find the right place for his tongue to lick, for his lips to caress. Her hand on his head, he would let himself be guided by her, would lick where she said to lick, would touch where she said to touch. 

Finally he would find just the right place, and he would know by her gasp that he should stay here. Her hand twisted in his hair - how he groaned against her when she pulled it hard - she would let the sensations overtake her, mind spinning blissfully to its glorious peak. 

It never took long after he settled into a steady rhythm, tongue licking wetly, strongly, against her clit. He made such delicious noises too, clearly loving her taste and the feel of her. When she came, he often would too, one hand stroking himself through his clothes. They would go back to the forge with suspicious damp stains and grass streaks, smelling of sex and need, there to work until once more they could not look away from each other. 

After three months of this, Feanaro wrote to his father asking very nicely for permission to cut the betrothal short and get married as soon as possible. Unknown to him, Mahtan, less oblivious than they suspected, also sent the King a letter, pleading for the same, as “my daughter and your son will get no work at all done until they are wed, that much is clear. I am tired of getting in the way of their glances at each other when they think I am not looking, and I am certain that they spend more time canoodling in the woods than they do working at the forge. This is all very well and good, but I need my finest assistants back, at least until they are ready to leave me.” 

The permission to wed immediately and quietly was granted within days.


End file.
